


Lay Your Hands On Me

by theapprenticecinna (erbinnerdgirl5)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Female Apprentice, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Modern AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erbinnerdgirl5/pseuds/theapprenticecinna
Summary: And to think, if Cinna had just remembered to put her phone on silent, none of this would have happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as fluff. Then it turned to smut. As most of my writing does. (Except for the writing that starts out as smut. But this really wasn't supposed to go there. Oops.)

_U up ?_  
  
The text tone is impossibly loud, and I had _just_ fallen asleep.

 _Cinna_  
_Cinna_  
_Cinnna  
_ _Cinana_

 _Gods._ I fumble for the phone, cursing half-an-hour-ago me for forgetting to put it back into do-not-disturb mode. I’d been texting with Asra while I got ready for bed and didn’t want to miss his replies, so I’d turned off do-not-disturb and then forgotten to put it back on. I’d also apparently forgotten to put it back on silent.

_Julian, I’m sleeping._

Forgotten, or “forgotten”? Hard to say. My most impossible and ridiculous friend usually ends up drunk-texting me to hang out on Saturday nights, which I do usually enjoy, but I also enjoy sleep. A lot.

_Np ur not ur texting me_

Impossible.

 _Im drunk and bord come hang outtttt or i might watch a horror movie later and itll come out of the tv and eat me_  
_or i might get run over on my wayhom e  
_ _if I get eaten by a tv mostner or a car bcuz u didnt want to hang out my blood is on your handss_

And ridiculous.

 _Ilya, it’s after midnight.  
_ _Also, stop turning autocorrect off, you’re too drunk to spell_

I click the light on and get out of bed. I know how this is going to go. Same way it always goes. He’ll wheedle at me until I agree to meet him for a drink and drive his wasted ass home, which I will do because I can’t say no to Julian even when I am tired and already in bed. Even when I am tired and already in bed and _mostly asleep_.

 _im not to drink to spell, u r  
_ _Oh shit I spellled it wrong didnt i_

I twist my hair into a topknot, laughing softly and wondering what tonight’s trigger was—was it actually boredom, or something more? Julian doesn’t need a reason to drink other than “it’s nighttime…ish”, but usually he doesn’t get completely blitzed unless something is bothering him.

I bet it’s Asra. It usually is.

I can’t find a hair tie, and let my hair fall again as I text back. _Yeah, you did. Where are you? The Raven?_

_yes_

_Give me 10 minutes._

I just _had_ a hair tie before bed. Where did I put it? I look around the dresser, the nightstand, my wrist. Usually it’s on my wrist, but not this time. I’m frustrated, although if I were to be completely honest with myself (which I’m not in the mood to be right now), the hair tie isn’t what’s upsetting me.

I twist my hair up again and stick a pencil through the bun to hold it. I shove my feet into flip-flops and grab a hoodie—it’s that or put on a bra, and I am not doing that.

The air is warm as I trace a locking rune on my apartment door and walk to my car, digging in my bag for my car key. I push up the sleeves of my hoodie, resenting Julian slightly for asking me to leave the comfort of my air conditioning. By the time the AC in my shitty old car finally kicks into gear, I’ll be at the bar. I put the windows down to get a breeze going and drive to the Rowdy Raven.

“Damn, Cinna, you didn’t even try tonight,” Muriel says as I shuffle up. The hulking bouncer and I have an understanding: if I show up alone and without eyeliner, I don’t have to pay the cover charge because I’m not there to party and will be leaving shortly.

“Shut up,” I tell him, flipping him a half-assed bird.

Muriel chuckles. “You staying for a drink?”

“I was asleep when he texted me. I’m hoping to be asleep again within the next half hour.”

“You should really put your phone on silent when you go to bed.” I glare at him, and he laughs again as he moves aside to let me through the door. “Let me know if you need a hand getting him upright.”

“He recognized a spelling mistake for a change, so I think he may not be that far gone, but thanks.” I enter the Rowdy Raven, scanning the crowd for unruly auburn curls towering above half the clientele.

He’s not at the bar. I look around the room, still not seeing him anywhere, and then suddenly there are arms around me from behind and I spin to shove their owner off, until I see the tattoo on the left hand. “You came!” He sounds utterly delighted.

“I always do, Ilya.”

He nods gravely. “You are correct. You always do.”

I take him by the hand and start for the door. “Let’s get you home.”

“What? No! Stay! Drink! Drinks on me!” he shouts, and a few other patrons turn to look at him. “Um, drinks for _her_ —” he points at me “—on me.”

“I don’t want a drink, Ilya, I want to take you home to bed.” His left eye widens. The right one probably does too, but it’s obscured by his hair, and also his ridiculous eyepatch, which he insists on wearing because he thinks it makes him look “dashing and mysterious”, despite me repeatedly telling him that it actually just makes him look scary and a bit unhinged, especially given that everyone knows he doesn’t actually need it anymore. I laugh at his expression. “To _sleep_ ,” I clarify. “I was asleep. I want to go _back_ to sleep.”

“I woke you up?”

“You did. You knew that. I told you when you texted.”

“I forgot.” He peers at his phone. “Oh. So you did. Wow, my spelling is bad tonight.”

“Yes, it is.” I tug his hand again. “Come on.”

He sighs theatrically. “All right, all right. But you’re having a drink with me at home.”

“Julian, I’m not even getting out of my car. I’m just gonna open the door and let you roll out as we drive past.”

He places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Cinna.” I push open the door and drag him out into the warm night. “She _wounds_ me, Muriel!” he hollers as we pass the bouncer.

“You probably had it coming,” Muriel says.

“You’re probably right,” Julian agrees good-naturedly, “I probably did. Good night, Muriel,” he calls over his shoulder as I pull him toward my car. “Cinna and I are going to go drink wine and watch horror movies and go to bed together.”

“None of those things is true,” I say loudly.

“We are going to drink and watch and _sleep_ together.”

“Still not true.” I pour him into the passenger seat, folding his long legs in before I close the door. His head lolls on the headrest, and he looks over at me as I climb into the driver’s seat. “It’s hot.”

“It is.”

“You’re wearing a sweatshirt.”

“You woke me up. I didn’t feel like putting on a bra just to come pick you up.”

“You’re not wearing a bra?” He leers at me, and I ignore him, reaching past him to tug his seatbelt across his chest. Julian leans forward, nuzzling my neck as he pulls the pencil out of my hair and lets it fall around my shoulders. I feel a jolt of electricity zing through my core, and I force myself to ignore it.

“You smell very nice, Cinna.” He suddenly doesn’t sound drunk at all, and I glance up at him. His face is completely serious, but his eye is still a bit unfocused.

“Thanks, Julian.” I click his seatbelt into place and lean back to fasten my own. He stays leaning forward for a moment before realizing I’ve moved and settling himself back into his seat, the moment apparently forgotten.

Neither of us says anything for a few minutes as I pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the main road to his apartment. I’m the first to break the silence. “So what happened tonight?”

“Hmm?” He’s looking out the open window, the breeze blowing his hair back off his face. The ridiculous eyepatch sits over his eye.

“Why so drinky? Just felt like partying, or is something going on?”

He turns to look at me and sighs. “Just…everything.”

I reach over and take his hand. “I get it.” Julian isn’t the only one Asra’s had this effect on. If anyone understands the torment that is loving that wonderful, mercurial man, it’s me.

“I know you do.” He lifts our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my fingers, then drops them back to his lap. “I miss him.”

“I know.”

“I hate him a little bit, too.”

“I know.”

“So do you.”

“I did, yeah.”

“But you also love him.”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“I know.”

We are silent for the rest of the drive. When we reach his apartment, I pull into a parking space and he looks at me, eyebrows raised. “I thought I had to roll out.”

“I changed my mind. You got me feeling all maudlin and now I don’t feel like sleeping anymore.”

“Come in for a drink?”

“Yes, but you’re drinking coffee.”

He nods. “Coffee is a good idea.”

I follow him into his apartment. It’s messy—medical textbooks and legal pads and pencils all over the coffee table; scrubs bunched in the bedroom doorway; stained coffee mugs and wine glasses sitting by the sink. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the counter next to half a dozen empty wine bottles. “Gods, Ilya, tell me you didn’t drink all these by yourself since the last time I was here. I’m not the doctor here, but even I know this isn’t good for you.”

I look over to see that he’s slumped on the sofa, head in his hands. I know better than to engage him when he’s like this, so I just chatter inanely as I start a pot of strong coffee, then go about washing the dishes littering the kitchen. I tell him about a reading I did for someone the other day, how she didn’t appreciate what the cards told her and threatened to sue me. I tell him about how I almost burned down the shop the other day because I was bored doing paperwork and kept idly snapping my fingers to light a flame, only I wasn’t paying enough attention and caught my notepad on fire. I tell him I’m going to strip naked for him and dance on the coffee table wearing a lampshade on my head.

He’s not paying any attention, as I suspected.

“What, not into a naked lampshade table dance? Come on, Ilya, I’ll put on a silver wig for it if it’ll make you smile.” I wrap his hands around the steaming mug of black coffee I’ve poured for him, and he snaps back to attention.

“Naked silver what now?”

“There you are. Hi. I’ve just been cleaning your kitchen and talking to you for the last fifteen minutes while you were off in la la land.”

“I heard something about naked.”

“Yes, I offered you a naked table dance. Even said I’d put on a silver wig if it would make you happy. I’m rescinding the offer, though, since you’ve been ignoring me even though I _got out of bed_ and drove across town to bring you home and take care of your drunk ass.”

“I don’t want to see you in a silver wig.” He shudders. “I don’t want to see silver hair ever again.”

I soften. “Julian.”

“I need a rebound.”

“You’ve had plenty of rebounds.”

“You’re right. I have. Rebounds don’t work.”

“No, they usually don’t.” He mumbles something I can’t quite hear, that sounds like _not you_. “What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself, but peers into my mug. “That’s not coffee.”

“Nope.”

“Why do you get whiskey and I only get coffee?”

“Because you’re drunk already.”

“No fair.” He pouts, and I laugh, leaning back on the sofa so my arm presses against his. “How do you get over someone you know you can’t have?”

I turn towards him, kicking off my sandals and curling my feet up under me. The sofa is rough against my cheek. “I’m not sure. I wish I had an answer for you, Julian, but I don’t.” And it’s true. I have no idea how you get over someone who doesn’t love you back. But it’s even harder when they do love you, but not like you need them to. Asra loves Julian in the way that Asra loves anything; completely, but only when Julian is right in front of him and Asra is paying enough attention to notice him. Julian loves Asra the way Julian does everything; utterly and completely, his own well-being be damned.

I know what it feels like to love someone with your entire being, and I also know better than to let myself think about it. That is a fantasy best saved for late at night, alone, when I’m not trying to be the voice of reason. Even as I sit here watching Julian sip his coffee, I tamp these thoughts down. I don’t need to be thinking about my most secret wishes while I’m supposed to be helping him. I brush the hair off his face, and he looks so sad that my heart squeezes.

“Every time I try to be with someone else it just reminds me that they’re not who I want,” he says. “And then I get mad at them. And then they get mad at me. And then I get mad at me. And then I promise myself I’m not going to think about the person I can’t have, and it only makes me think about it more than ever, and then I hate myself for not keeping my promises.” I place my hand on his arm, sending a wave of calming magic through my fingertips. He looks down at the blue light thrumming over his bicep. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”

I laugh again. “Of course I’m trying to make you feel better, Ilya. That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“We should watch a horror movie.”

“We absolutely should not.”

“You never want to watch horror movies with me.”

“I never want to watch horror movies, period.”

“Please, Cinna? I’ll pick a not-scary one. Like… _The Shining_.”

“Your idea of a not-scary horror movie is _The Shining_?”

“I mean, no one crawls out of the TV in it. I don’t think.” His eyebrows draw together. “It’s been a while.”

I’ve actually seen _The Shining_ before, and I didn’t really find it that scary, all things considered, so I agree. He starts the movie, and I refill his coffee and pour some into my own mug, too, because otherwise I know I will fall asleep before the movie’s over. Then I go into his bedroom and retrieve his rumpled comforter from the bed.

“You’re cold?” he asks.

“Not really. But horror movies need blankets to hide under.” I drape the comforter over us both and lean against him again. He smells like wine and coffee, and soon I can feel him start to relax next to me.

“Are you scared?” he says to me after a few minutes.

“Of the movie? No. I’m good.”

“Are you scared of other things?”

“Sometimes. Not right now, though.”

He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle into him. These are my favorite moments with Julian, when he’s content and not putting on a dramatic front to cover his self-loathing. I enjoy his theatrics when he’s happy and just being silly, but more and more lately he’s been using them to hide his pain, and I don’t enjoy them then. I stroke his arm where it wraps around my shoulder, threads of blue magic winding around his wrist, and he sighs, relaxing further. I put my other hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and weave in a few strands of sobering yellow, so he can sleep tonight—actually sleep, not just pass out—and won’t have a hangover tomorrow.

“I used to hate you,” Julian says suddenly. I’m accustomed to both candor and non-sequiturs from him, so this statement shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Not the statement itself; the fact that he’s admitting it. We don’t often talk about when I was with Asra, but apparently it’s on his mind tonight. “At first I thought it was because you were with him. But then I realized I didn’t hate you because you were with him, I didn’t hate you at all, but I did hate him a little bit because he was with you.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.” He takes a deep breath. “The only thing worse than seeing the person you love with someone new is realizing that you want that new person more than you want the old person and you can’t have either of them.” I sit up and stare at him, sure I’m misunderstanding. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Never mind.”

“Julian.” I reach for his hand but he pulls it away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Julian.” He stares resolutely at the screen. “Ilya.” He doesn’t even blink. “ _Jules_.”

That gets his attention. “Please don’t call me that.” I’ve hurt him.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. But you can’t say something like that and then just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Cinna, I really just want to watch the movie.”

I lean toward him. “No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t have said that.” He’s used to me acquiescing, letting him pout or sulk or pretend away whatever is bothering him. But I can’t do that this time. I stay there, inches from his face, until he gives up and turns to look at me.

“Can’t we just—” he starts, and without thinking about it, I press my lips to his, cutting him off.

He freezes, and I back off. “I’m sorry, I thought—should I not have done that?” He answers me by returning the kiss, his mouth claiming mine with a passion he usually reserves for self-deprecating jokes and drunken declarations that he’s unlovable. It’s everything I’ve dreamed about, everything I’ve imagined lying awake in the dark of night with nothing but my thoughts and my fingers for company. Julian never does anything halfway; I’d known that he’d kiss like it was the last thing he’d ever do on this earth, but I’d had no idea how completely it would undo me. I clutch at him, desperate, suddenly certain that I have never needed or wanted anything as much as I need and want Julian Devorak in this moment.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, just enough for me to see the moonlight from the window forming a halo around him, and I reach up and touch his face. He swallows. “This is…”

“Don’t go.” I slide my hand behind his neck, the pads of my fingers pressing just enough for him to understand the question I’m not voicing, but not so hard that he can’t choose his answer. He protests even as he moves in toward me.

“We shouldn’t…” His mouth is so close that I can feel his lips move against mine as he speaks.

“Why not?” I whisper, stroking my thumb over his cheekbone, along the edge of that stupid eyepatch.

“I don’t know.”

I don’t say anything, just tilt my head towards him again. I expect him to draw away, but he surprises me. I push off the sofa to meet his kiss, and his hand is in my hair, the other coming around my waist to pull me onto his lap, my thighs straddling his.

My fingers find the string of his eyepatch and tug it off, tossing it behind me. He sits back, the scar on his eyelid a thin silver line marring his perfect face—and making it even more perfect in its imperfection. “Hey,” he says, indignant, and I grin.

“I hate that thing. It makes you look ridiculous.”

“It makes me look sexy and mysterious.”

“You don’t need the eyepatch, Ilya.” I trace the scar with a finger, my magic making it glow faintly blue. “You really don’t.”

He presses his forehead against mine. “What are we doing, Cinna?”

I kiss him again, softly. “Kissing.”

“You know what I mean.”

I pull back. “Should I leave?”

“Of course not. I just…I’m drunk.”

“No, you’re not. I sobered you up back at the beginning of the movie.”

He tries again. “You’re drunk?”

I shake my head slowly. “A splash of whiskey is not enough to have me drunk, and you know it.”

“We both—”

“—want this,” I finish, cutting him off and pressing my lips to his jaw. “At least, I do. And by your own admission, I think you do, too.”

He makes a strangled sound and tilts his head to allow me better access to nip at the soft skin below his ear. “I—gods, Cinna, you know I do.”

“If you’re not sure, I’ll go.” _Please be sure_ , I think, but even as I think it I’m leaning back, sliding off his lap, shoving the fallen comforter aside to find my shoes, sure he’ll send me home.

His face is anguished, his voice hoarse, and he tugs at my sleeve, trying to pull me closer and keep me at arm’s length at the same time. “You deserve better than me. You deserve everything, you deserve the world, you deserve someone worthy of you.”

“Julian.” I run a hand down his arm, desperate to be touching him but knowing it needs to be his decision. “I don’t want the world. I want _you_. I just didn’t think you saw me as anything more than the only person who understood how you feel about Asra. All this time, I thought it was him you were pining over. I had no idea you felt the same way about me that I feel about you.”

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It never occurred to me you’d ever see me as anything more than ‘Asra’s ex’.”

I laugh softly. “Julian, I’ve never once thought of you as ‘Asra’s ex’.”

“‘That one-eyed guy who’s obsessed with my boyfriend’?”

“Ha. Not quite.”

“‘That tall—’”

Still laughing, I put a finger on his lips to shut him up. “You were ‘Asra’s gorgeous and funny friend, Julian’, at first. Then you were ‘our amazing friend, Julian’.” I shrug. “Then you were just ‘my Julian’.”

“Cinna.” He cups my face in his hand, and I turn and press my lips to his palm. “I have a confession.” I raise an eyebrow. “Most of those times that you thought I was getting drunk because I missed Asra? I was getting drunk because I wanted to be with you, and you were with him.”

“I haven’t been with him for a year, and you still spend most weekends drunk and disorderly. I’ve come to think of it as a character trait.”

“Those were the weekends I was trying to get up the nerve to tell you I worship you, but I never could do it.”

I giggle. “Actually, you tell me that on a fairly regular basis when you’ve been drinking. I just always assumed you were being dramatic and fishing for me to compliment you back.”

He grimaces. “I’m sure I was. But I was also serious. I adore you, Cinna. I’ve wanted to ravish you from the moment I laid eyes on you, but the more time I spend with you the more I realize I’ve never cared for anyone else like this.” He pauses. “I still want to ravish you, I want to be extremely clear on that. But also, I love you.”

“I love you too, Ilya.”

He smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“I was promised ravishing.”

“One thing at a time, dear Cinna. One thing at a time.” He leans in and captures my mouth and he tastes like coffee and wine and _Julian_ , and I sigh and fall into him.


	2. Chapter 2

He lifts me up and carries me to the bedroom, places me on the bed, and stands there staring at me, one knee on the mattress.

“Julian?”

“Hush. I’m savoring the moment.”

“Savor it from over here.” _Preferably shirtless_.

He yanks his t-shirt over his head and I wonder briefly if I’d actually said it out loud, but then his body is covering mine and he is kissing me and I forget to care. His fingers trail along my throat and down to the zipper of my hoodie, and he tugs gently at it, pulling out of the kiss to quirk an eyebrow at me. I nod and grab for him again, and he pulls the zipper open, his hand coming around my hip, teasing along the hem of my tank top. I run my hands up his arms and over his chest, magic sparking in their wake, and he shudders. “Fuck, Cinna.” He shoves my shirt up to my ribcage. “That’s…please don’t stop.” I trace the ridges of his stomach, his biceps, his shoulder blades, bringing my magic to a steady hum over his skin. He looks at me with wonder. “What _is_ that?” His hand leaves my side, catching me by the wrist and turning my hand over to watch the red sparks flit between my fingers. “It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful.”

I reach out and run my fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face and leaving shimmers of magic behind, caught in the coppery twists. As the curls settle back into place, the red sparks fall onto my exposed stomach, pricking at my skin and sending extra jolts of electricity through me. I writhe against him, enjoying the feeling of my own magic, and he groans, “You’re going to kill me,” before he takes my mouth again.

I have never been kissed the way this man kisses me, as though his entire existence depends on it, as though I am the only thing anchoring him to this world. I wonder how it ever took us this long to get here.

His leg slides between my thighs and I gasp at the contact. He slips his hand back up to the edge of my shirt. “May I?”

“Gods, yes.” I sit up, pulling my arms from the sleeves of my hoodie before raising them to allow him to tug my tank over my head. He sits back on his heels and stares at me.

“Cinna.” My name on his lips is the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard, and my heart swells to hear it. I lean in for another kiss, but he dodges, pressing me back against the mattress and clamping his teeth lightly around my nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. I arch off the bed. He huffs a laugh, his breath warming the damp skin where his mouth was, and I rub my fingers together to glove my hand in red flame before passing it over his chest and down his side. “Oh,” he says. “Oh. I’m going to want to explore that more later. But for now…” He pulls my wrist away from him and pins it above my head. “Hands to yourself, magician.” His fingers trace down my arm, across my breast, down my stomach, and hook into the waistband of my leggings. I lift my hips obediently, and he laughs. “So eager.” He tugs the cloth over my hips, down my legs, tosses it onto the floor, and sweeps his gaze over me. Bare, needy, vulnerable. I’ve never felt so seen.

I reach for him with my left hand, and he pushes it up to join my right. “Hands to yourself, I said,” he purrs, and the feeling of his long body pressed against my naked skin is too much. I make a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper, and he pushes my knees apart and slides down, down, pressing kisses to my chest, my navel, lower. I close my eyes, giving myself over to the feel of his mouth and hands, and when I cry out my release, he groans too, the vibrations sending extra ripples of pleasure through me. “Do you have _any_ idea how gorgeous you are?” he says. I respond by reaching for his belt, and he laughs again. “And in such a hurry.” But he obligingly lifts up so that I can push his jeans over his hips, then kicks them off the rest of the way. I pull him to me and roll so that I’m on top of him, and I spark my magic back up. “And this is when I die,” he says, watching me bring my fingers over him, tracing patterns on his skin. He arches up to meet each touch. “Happily, might I add.”

“Hush,” I tell him, echoing his words to me earlier, and I slide his arms up over his head, streaks of glowing red following my hands up to his wrists. “And no touching.”

“Oh, fuck,” I hear him mutter, but he obeys, grabbing onto the pillow. I press against his side, turning his face to mine so that I can kiss him again, my tongue sliding against his. My hand trails down his stomach and curves around him, and his hips buck off the mattress. “I’m dead. I’m going to die. You’re going to kill me,” he mutters as I caress him, my hand still glowing red.

“Shhhh,” I remind him, ratcheting up the magic just a hair, and he whimpers. “Too much?”

“Never.” I stroke him until I know he is about to break, then I pull my hand away, sliding it back up to his face. “ _Witch_ ,” he growls, opening his scarred eye to glare at me.

“Do you have—”

“Top drawer.” I roll to fish in the nightstand for a condom, sliding it down over him before pulling him back on top of me.

“I need you, Julian.” He drops his head, burying his face in my shoulder, and for a moment I think he’s stopping, that I’ve said something wrong, but how can there be anything wrong with _I need you_? “Ilya?”

“I’m here.” His voice is strained with lust, and he looks at me with such naked longing that it makes my vision swim. “I’ve always been here.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and as he enters me I press a hand to his chest, over his heart. My palm glows, and as he moves within me the light spreads to my fingers, to his chest, and we move together, edging closer and closer to the precipice until at last we both tip over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward morning; a text from an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned on the previous two chapters being it for this story. But xmarawaynex requested more chapters, and I realized I'm not done with these lovebirds yet, so here we go. More to come, as well.

I wake to the sound of mugs clinking and someone swearing. “Balls!”  
  
It takes me a moment to orient myself. I’m tangled in a sheet--normally I don’t move much in my sleep, so I’m rarely tangled in anything when I wake up, and if I am it’s my fluffy comforter. I never fall asleep with just a sheet. I like the weight of the blankets on top of me.  
  
Oh. Right. I didn’t need the weight of the blankets on top of me last night, because I had the weight of Julian.  
  
A thrill goes through me as I sit up and twist my hair away from my face. How could I have forgotten, even for a moment, even groggy from sleep?  
  
“Ow…”  
  
Climbing out of the bed, I find my clothes and pad into the kitchen, where Julian is drinking coffee at the table and cursing. “Fuck, that’s hot.”  
  
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, planting a kiss on his head, damp from the shower, as I pass him. It’s a familiar gesture, perhaps too familiar given that we’ve only just slept together for the first time, but it’s Julian. Surely we’ve gotten the potential for morning-after awkwardness out of our systems long ago, even if this is technically our first morning after. “There better be more of that coffee in here.”  
  
“Oh! Cinna! Yes! There is. More. Coffee. Ah, here, no, you sit, I’ll get it.” He practically falls out of the chair as he stands, tripping over himself as he fetches another mug to fill from the coffee pot.  
  
“Ilya, I can get my own coffee,” I laugh.  
  
“No, no, sit, you sit, I’ll get it, it’s the least I can--fuck, ow.” He sucks in a breath, shaking the hand he’s just sloshed coffee all over. I take the mug away from him.  
  
“Julian, you’re acting ridiculous.” I wrap my hand around his burned one, healing blue light washing over it. He watches, fascinated. “There. All better.”  
  
“I, ah. Thank you. Cinna.”  
  
I push him gently back toward the table, then sit next to him, blowing on my coffee to cool it. “What’s going on, Ilya?”  
  
He’s still inspecting his hand, the red scald marks gone. “Nothing. Why? What’s going on with you?” I raise an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. “Oh, Cinna, I don’t know. I’m feeling awkward.”  
  
“Because of last night?”  
  
“Every part of last night, yes. I’m afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself for a while there.”  
  
I grin. “It didn’t start off as your best night, but I think it ended all right.” He flushes. He’s adorable when he’s embarrassed. “You’re wearing your eye patch again. Guess I need to throw it out the window next time I take it off you.”  
  
“I, ah, well. Yes. I have work today, and sometimes the patients are unsettled by my…” He waves a hand at his face.  
  
“Really? It’s just a scar. Not even a big one.” It’s not like he’s missing an eye. The eye is perfectly fine. He wouldn’t even have a scar if he’d insisted on seeing a plastic surgeon that night, instead of just letting the first person with an MD near his face. But then, Julian has a habit of making poor decisions when he's sober, and that night he had certainly not been anywhere near sobriety. “I’d think having someone approach you with an IV needle and a depth-perception problem would be more upsetting to most people.”  
  
He barks a laugh at that, and it’s the first time he’s relaxed since I woke up. It’s lovely. “You’re probably right. I just…I’m used to it. Everyone else is used to it. I take it off for surgeries, of course. Depth perception. As you said.”  
  
“Plus, it makes you look sexy and mysterious, if I recall.” I wink, and he makes vague noises of defense. “Hey, I’m okay with being the only one who gets to see you with it off.” He turns red again at that, and I drop my voice, teasing him as I stroke a finger over the tattoo on his hand. “I’m hoping I’ll get to see you with it off a lot.”  
  
He chokes, coughing, and retreats to the kitchen, pouring the remains of his coffee in the sink before grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter. “I, ah, well. Yes. I have to go. To work.”  
  
I catch his hand. “Hey.” He looks at me; or rather, at a point just over my shoulder. I turn his chin and force him to make eye contact. “Don’t make it weird, okay?”  
  
He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s…ah. No. No excuses. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Let me get my stuff and I’ll walk out with you so you can lock up.” He nods, and I gather my flip flops and bag quickly, then follow him out to the parking lot. When we reach my car, I pull him down for a kiss. “Go to work. We’ll talk later.”  
  
Julian sighs and leans into me, deepening the kiss until, when I finally push him away, I’m dizzy and breathless. “Ilya, go to work.”  
  
He pulls me close again, his breath a whisper over my lips. “I don’t want to go to work.”  
  
I laugh against his mouth. “You have to go to work. I also have to go to work.”  
  
“Let’s play hooky.”  
  
“People’s lives are depending on you, Doctor.”  
  
“Just one more.” He kisses me again. “Last one.” And again. “One more…” And again.  
  
“Ilya…”  
  
“I know. Just…one more.” His tongue slides against mine, his hands on either side of my face, holding it so tenderly, as though I’m going to disappear under his touch. I give in to his kiss for a moment longer, before taking him by the wrists and prying myself away from him.  
  
“Julian, you need to _go_.”  
  
“I know. I know, I do, I just…ah, damn.” He rubs a hand over his face. “You’re right. Okay. I’m going.”  
  
I squeeze his hand. “Let me know when you’re done at work.”  
  
“It’ll be late, it’s a double.”  
  
“You’re working a double shift? On less than three hours of sleep? You can’t do that.”  
  
“I’ve done it before.”  
  
“That’s doesn’t mean you should. Here.” I step toward him again and his hands come around my waist, pulling my hips against his as a low growl escapes him. “Easy, tiger. This isn’t that kind of house call.” I rise up on my toes to put my hands on his hand, fingers weaving through his hair. He bends his head down obligingly, and I concentrate for a moment, eyes closed, orange and yellow swirling down my arms, into my hands and fingers, sluicing over him. His eye widens.  
  
“Whatever that is, it’s amazing.”  
  
“It’s a pep-up spell. It won’t last all the way through your shift, but it should at least take you until you can get a nap in. Promise me you’ll try to get a nap in? It won’t be an instant crash, but as the spell wears off you’ll feel it more and more.”  
  
“Or you could come visit me at work and do that again. That felt incredible.”  
  
“Leave it to you to get addicted to magical caffeine.”  
  
“It’s not just the magic.” His pupil is so large that his grey eye looks almost black, even in the morning sunlight. His hand snakes behind my head again, and I put my hands on his chest firmly. “Okay, okay, I know,” he laughs. “Work. I’m going. So are you. I’ll call you.” He starts to bend to kiss me again, then thinks better of it before I have a chance to stop him. “Right. Bad idea. You’re right. I’ll, ah…yeah.” He runs a hand over my hair, and then he’s gone.  
  
***  
  
It’s a long day. Double shifts are the pits whether you’re the one working them or the one waiting at home for the one working them. Every few hours Julian texts me.  
  
_I can’t stop thinking about you._  
_I can’t stop thinking about last night._  
_I think maybe I made up last night._  
_I think maybe I’m delirious._  
  
_GO TAKE A NAP, ILYA._  
  
_I can’t, beds are making me think about things that make sleeping hard._  
_Also other things hard._  
  
_You’re terrible. Go walk through the ambulatory admission area, surely there’s something gross and bloody there to deflate you some._  
  
_You certainly know how to kill the mood, Cinna._  
  
_Good. GO TO SLEEP._  
  
I don’t end up keeping the shop open for long. I’m too tired, too distracted, and I only have two customers anyway, a pair of teenage girls clearly just going on a joyride through the “weird” magic shop, not actually planning to buy anything. I hear them giggling in the love-and-lust section and pop up brightly from around the corner. “Hiiiii, girls, can I help you find something in particular? Love potion? So here’s the thing--I hate to break it to you and I don’t want to tell you how to spend your money, but the love potions are just novelty items, they don’t actually do anything. Now, I _do_ have some powerful aphrodisiacs in the back, but legally I can’t sell them to anyone under eighteen. Are you? Eighteen?” I pause just long enough for them to start to stammer and back away towards the door. “No? Okay, that’s fine, if you decide you want the aphrodisiac come on back with your mom or dad and I’ll be happy to show you what I’ve got. But honestly, you’d be really surprised how far a sense of humor and a tight t-shirt can take you. Oh, you’re leaving? Okay, have a good day, come again soon!”  
  
I lock the door behind them and flip the sign from open to closed. Then I go upstairs to my apartment and pull out my phone as I flop on the bed for a nap.  
  
No new texts from Julian. Good. Hopefully that means he’s asleep.  
  
There is a new text from Asra, though. A group text. With me and Julian.  
  
_I’m coming back to town for a while, I want to see you both._  
  
Well, shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinna and Julian talk; Julian has a work emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy everyone, I'm still here! Sorry for the delay! Life happened. BUT my hope is that I'll be able to update this weekly-ish from now on, or at least for the foreseeable future. I can't tell you how much the kudos and kind comments mean to me, so I'm going to really do my best to show my gratitude with more content.

So much for my nap. Adrenaline courses through me, rendering me more awake than I’ve ever felt.

I love Asra. I adore him. He’s one of my favorite people.

But I can’t remember the last time he came back that I didn’t have to put Julian back together like Humpty fucking Dumpty. And whatever this new thing between me and Julian is, I want to preserve it, I want it to be strong enough to withstand a visit with Asra--truly, I want it to be strong enough that all three of us can actually enjoy being together, for once. I don’t think that’s ever happened. Usually Julian turns into the most dramatically self-loathing version of himself by the end of Asra’s stay, which is fun for no one.

Of course, that was back when Julian was in love with us both and I didn’t know it. Maybe this new development is enough to keep him together? Keep _us_ together? Are we together?

I really need a nap.

I fight the urge to text Asra back and instead, fire off a message to Julian.

_Don’t reply to Asra yet, okay? You and I should discuss before we respond._

The bubble that says he’s typing back appears immediately.

 _Thank the gods for you, Cinna, it’s like you read my mind._  
_I really needed to hear that. I was about to say something dumb.  
__I can’t be relied upon to make good choices this tired._  

_Did you get a nap?_

_Tried. Almost fell asleep but forgot to put my phone on silent and Asra’s text woke me up.  
_ _Now I’m all wired._

Fuck. I grab my bag and leave my apartment. _Me too. I’m coming to the hospital, with food and magic. Be there in 20._

_Bless you, you angel, you._

I don’t really like using my magic as a band-aid like this. A pep-up spell is basically like pouring a five-hour-energy into your fifth cup of coffee, and the more you do it without getting real sleep, the harder you will crash, and I _really_ don’t like doing it when the recipient needs to _actually_ function. Like, you know, an ER trauma surgeon does. But if it’s this or have him pass out in the middle of saving a gunshot victim, well, sometimes you have to pick between the rock and the hard place.

Technically, legally, I shouldn’t be doing it at all. I’m not a licensed healer. But look, if I can help someone and there are no cops around to haul me in for practicing without a license, I’m not going to just walk away.

That was the most important thing my aunt taught me. “If you can help someone, you never just walk away.” She would encourage me to do it even if there was a chance I’d get caught, probably, but then she’d also encourage me to get licensed so I didn’t have to worry about that.

My aunt didn’t like to live on the edge.

Of course, I don’t think of myself as liking to live on the edge, but the past few years of my life have shown that maybe I’m more comfortable with it than I previously thought. A friendship with Julian and Asra is basically one big fat cliff threatening to crumble under your feet.

The ER is pretty empty, so I walk up to the desk and ask for Julian. “I’ve got lunch for Dr. Devorak, when he can step away.” The pretty blonde behind the desk pages him, and a few moments later the doors open and my breath leaves my lungs.

There are people who just command the attention of the room the minute they walk into it. Julian is one of those people. Even clearly exhausted and wearing rumpled hospital scrubs, he’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, and when he sweeps me into a hug, I want to weep.

To be fair, that might be my own exhaustion talking, but I really am incredibly glad to see him.

“Cinna, you are a vision,” he says, pulling away to look down at me. He pats my arms and head. “Only in the metaphorical sense, though, thankfully. For a moment I feared I was hallucinating you, and I cannot tell you how disappointed I would be if that were the case.”

“I’d be more than just disappointed if I thought I was getting burgers and it turned out to be a hallucination,” I tell him, and he laughs.

“Yes, well, that would also be upsetting. But really, I am very glad to see you. Even without the burgers.” He leads me through a door and we find a quiet bench in a deserted hallway. I hand him a burger, watching as he unwraps it and takes a bite. “Ah. This is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Cinna.”

I tear into my own burger and we eat in silence for a few minutes before I speak. “So. Asra.”

He sighs. “Yes. Asra. I assume you’re going to see him.”

“I will. You don’t have to, though.”

“I think I maybe want to. But I don’t know if that’s just my masochistic tendencies talking, or if it could be therapeutic to finally put everything between us to rest, in light of…ah, things.” He glances at me, hair in his face, ears pink. “I really don’t know what to think about it all, and I’m not sure I’m in any mental state right now to make that decision.”

I scoot closer, my leg pressing against his. I can feel the energy radiating off of him--tiredness, adrenaline, and that uniquely Julian aura that no extenuating circumstances can quite cover.

He’s doing that thing he does where he starts to go inside himself because he’s feeling too much, and I set aside our burgers and take his hands in mine. “Ilya.” He looks at me, and my chest constricts, my heart squeezing for this amazing, broken man whom I love so much. I brush his hair back tenderly, my entire being swelling with affection, wanting to just put him in my pocket and protect him from everything that could ever hurt him. “Look. We’re both beat right now. We were up late, emotions ran high—and you really need to stop going out drinking the night before you’re on shift, you know that, right?” He huffs a laugh, and I squeeze his hand, running my thumb over his tattoo. “It was a long night. An amazing night, but a long one. Asra’s timing is terrible.”

“It usually is.”

I giggle. “That’s true. But listen, I don’t want you stressing out over this right now. Let me handle Asra, you handle work, and when you’re done here and have had a chance to rest, we can figure it all out.”

“Easier said than done, my dear.”

“I know. I know. But promise me you’ll try to ignore your brain for a while. I know you, and I know you can set it aside and focus on work, and I want you to do that.” I kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck, then press my forehead to his. “I’m not going anywhere. Finish work, then come to my place and we’ll get some sleep and figure it all out. Okay?”

He nods. “Okay. Thank you, Cinna. Truly, I--” His beeper goes off, and he looks down at it. “Fuck, I have to go, there’s a thing coming in.” He kisses me quickly, then starts to rush off down the hall.

“Julian, wait!” I chase after him, and thankfully he slows because there’s no way I’d catch him up otherwise. “Let me do the spell, okay? Food will only take you so far, it’ll take two seconds.” I reach for him, spiraling the spell over his features, a little more erratic than I prefer to do magic but it’ll have to do. It’ll get him through the next few hours, at least. “Okay. Call me when you’re off, all right? I can come get you if you need me to. Don’t try to drive unless you get some decent sleep.” I’m mother henning, but I can’t help it.

“I will. I--” He cuts himself off. “Thank you, Cinna.”

“You’re welcome. Go.” He disappears through a door, and I clean up the remains of our lunch, then text Asra.

_I’m game. Ilya’s working a double now, but let’s figure something out for you and I and he’ll make it if he can._

His reply comes back almost immediately. _He needs to._

_Do you know something I don’t?_

_No. It’s just a feeling._

Cryptic as ever. Not entirely his fault, he can’t exactly see the future like a movie, but still.

_Watch him, Cinna. Until I get there. Keep him safe._

Well, shit. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian ends a double shift, too tired to even shower.

I do manage to get some sleep, and when I wake up a few hours later, I feel refreshed and mildly less stressed out about…everything. I mix up a sleeping draught, because I don’t doubt that Julian will need it when he gets here, and set about making some soup as well. I don’t know when he’ll get off work—probably around midnight—or if he’ll be hungry, but I need to stay busy or I’ll focus too much on Asra’s warning. So I put on a podcast, chop vegetables, and make stock out of a rotisserie chicken I’d grabbed the day before at the store. There are a lot of types of magic in this world, and a pressure cooker that allows you to produce stock in under an hour is one of my favorites.  
  
When the soup is done and I’ve had to restart the same podcast three times because I can’t seem to focus on what the hosts are saying, I give up and wander into the living room. I’m too wound to read, or to watch TV, or even to mindlessly scroll through social media looking for cute cat photos. I open a text to Asra.  
  
_What did you mean about Julian being in trouble?_  
  
He doesn’t respond right away, and I chew my thumbnail, willing the “typing” bubble to appear. Finally, it does.  
  
_I don’t know._  
_It’s just a feeling._  
_The cards don’t give specifics, you know that._  
  
_I_ know, I reply. _But why do you think it’s to do with Ilya specifically?_  
  
_I don’t know. I just do._  
_Are you okay? You seem really concerned about this. Did something already happen?_  
  
I laugh out loud, a short, sharp sound. “Not whatever something you mean,” I mutter, typing back, _No, but you text me out of the blue to say you’re coming home and to keep Julian safe, you’ve got to see why that’s concerning to me._  
  
The phone rings in my hand. Not just a call; a FaceTime.  
  
I sigh. I really am not in the mood to do this right now. But I don’t have a good excuse not to, and anyway, I haven’t talked to him except over text in a while. So I answer.  
  
“Cinna.” Asra’s voice is warm, his smile wide, and as always, I’m struck by what a beautiful face he has.  
  
“Hi, Asra. Where are you?”  
  
He looks behind him at the trees and hills. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”  
  
A typical non-answer. “Beautiful.”  
  
He’s quiet for a moment, apparently staring off into the distance past his phone. Then, “I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you.”  
  
“I don’t feel like you’ve given me _any_ answers, Asra. We’ve barely heard from you in months.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And now suddenly you’re coming home and convinced Ilya’s in trouble.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“But not enough trouble to rush home, just enough to come this weekend.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What sort of trouble are you talking about, Asra?”  
  
“I don’t know, Cinna. I’m sorry, I don’t. That’s why I’m coming home. I don’t know if he’ll be the reason for the trouble, or the one in trouble, or both. I don’t want you having to handle it alone.”  
  
“I can handle Julian on my own, Asra. I do it all the time.” I sound petulant, and I hate it, but I can’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”  
  
“Long day?”  
  
“Long night.”  
  
“Was he drinking again?”  
  
I don’t like to talk to Asra about Julian’s binges, and I’m certainly not going to get into the events of last night with him—not now, anyway. But I have to give him something or he’ll start to dig. “Yeah. Not bad, though. I took him home, we watched a movie, I ended up crashing over there. He had to get up early for work so I’m running on fumes. He probably is too.”  
  
“You should have taken a nap.”  
  
“I did,” I tell him.  
  
“You should take another nap.”  
  
“Is that your answer to everything?” I laugh.  
  
“Usually,” he says, smiling.  
  
“I’m sorry, Asra. I don’t mean to be cranky with you. It’s really good to talk to you. I’m just in a weird mood.”  
  
“I get it. I know I’ve been cryptic. But I’ll be home this weekend, and we’ll know more then. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”  
  
“Me too.” And I am, I really am. I’m not sure what seeing him will entail—if Julian’s there, Asra will known within moments that we’ve slept together. Not that I’d want to hide it from him. Truthfully, he’ll probably be thrilled; he’s never been the jealous type. But if Julian is really in some kind of trouble, I don’t want to distract us from the bigger issue. “Do you need me to pick you up? Are you flying?”  
  
His face twists, eyes crinkling. “Maybe for part of the trip. I’ll come into Vesuvia by bus though.”  
  
“Asra, seriously, where _are_ you?”  
  
He laughs. “Good night, Cinna. Tell Ilya hello from me.” He blows me a kiss, and disconnects.  
  
Okay, then. I look at the clock. Julian won’t be off work for a few more hours. I turn on Netflix and queue up _The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_ for the umpteenth time. I need something light that I don’t really have to focus on but that will distract me at least a little bit while I wait for Julian to come over.  
  
***  
  
The phone wakes me. I purposely left the sound on this time, expecting that Julian would call or text when he left work and knowing I’d probably doze off in front of the TV. Sometimes Asra is right and a nap is just necessary.  
  
“Hi,” I say, my voice thick with sleep.  
  
“I woke you again.”  
  
“Yeah, but it’s okay, I was hoping you’d call. Are you off work?”  
  
“Finally, yes.”  
  
“Want me to come get you?”  
  
“No, stay put. I’ll Lyft over. I’m too knackered to drive, and if you were asleep you probably are too. I’ll see you in a bit.”  
  
“Okay.” I bite my tongue on the _I love you_ that tries to escape; it’s too soon. We say it to each other all the time—hell, we’d said it last night. But I don’t exactly know where we stand with one another, and I don’t want to complicate things. “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
It’s another half hour before I hear his key in the door to the shop downstairs—the key Asra gave him, back when Asra lived here full time, that I never bothered to take back once Asra moved out. I unlock the door to my apartment and stand in the doorway, watching him make his way up the stairs. “Hey, you.”  
  
“Cinna. You are a sight for sore eyes, do you know that?” He pauses two steps down from the landing, putting us at roughly the same height, and reaches out to wrap an escaped lock of my hair around his finger. “Ah, I am so very, very glad to see you, my dear.”  
  
“Likewise.” I lean forward to kiss him, and he meets me halfway so I don’t pitch down the stairs. For so long, every time I saw him I fought the urge to touch him like this, and now that I’ve been given permission I’m finding it impossible not to wrap myself around him every moment I get. “Long day.”  
  
“The longest,” he agrees, lips still against mine. He climbs the last two steps so he is towering over me again, breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry I ran off like I did earlier.”  
  
“You had an emergency. You’re an emergency room doctor. It happens.”  
  
“Yes, well. I’d far rather have stayed with you.”  
  
“Was it bad?” I ask as I lead him into the apartment. The spell I’d cast earlier clearly wore off some time ago; he’s pale and the smudges under his eyes give him a haunted look.  
  
“Very bad, yes.”  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
He sighs. “Not really, but only because I don’t want to upset you.” I turn from ladling soup into a bowl and raise an eyebrow at him, and he laughs tiredly. “All right, all right, you’re right. It was a motorcycle accident. Had to take his whole arm off at the shoulder. Very grisly.”  
  
“Sounds it.” Setting the soup at the table, I push him gently to the chair. “Sit. Eat.”  
  
“I don’t deserve you, Cinna.”  
  
“Uh-uh, we’ve been through that and I’m not having that conversation again. Eat your soup.” He obliges, sighing contentedly as he does. “So, long surgery, then?”  
  
“Not as long as you’d think, but definitely taxing. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if it hadn’t been for that spell of yours. Thank you again for that.”  
  
“You’re quite welcome. Did you manage to get a nap or anything after that?”  
  
“A short one. Enough to power through the rest of the shift. Luckily no other major incidents came in. All I’ve been able to think of since I got out of surgery is getting to you and taking a shower and sleeping for days.”  
  
“I think we can arrange that. But finish eating first.”  
  
We make small talk while he eats—I tell him about the teenagers in the shop earlier, but don’t mention yet that I spoke to Asra and that Asra was as cryptic as ever.  
  
Julian is swaying in his chair. “Ilya, I think maybe you should sleep first and shower later.”  
  
“Cinna, I spent the better part of today cutting off a man’s arm. I am not going to bed until I take a shower.”  
  
“You’re barely upright.”  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
I know better than to argue with him. I lead him through the bedroom, into the bathroom, pull a fresh towel and washcloth out of the cupboard, and leave him to his shower, returning to the kitchen to clean the dishes and put the rest of the soup in the fridge. I don’t think he’s likely to _need_ the sleeping draught I mixed up earlier, but I want him to get more than the five hours of sleep he considers a good night’s rest, so I ladle some into a mug anyway and bring it into the bedroom. He’s left the bathroom door ajar, and I call through the opening to him.  
  
“You doing okay?” There’s no response. “Julian?” I push the door open. “You awake in here?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, ah, yes. Yes, I’m awake. I think.”  
  
I peek around the edge of the shower curtain and see him sitting in the tub, leaning against the wall, the water raining down around him. “Oh, Ilya. You’re so tired, love. You need to sleep.”  
  
He looks up at me through auburn tangles. “I want to. I really do. Just give me a minute, I’ll be fine, I just need to sit for a minute.” He leans his head against the wall again, and I push the button on the faucet to stop the shower and start the bath running. His eyes crack open. “What are you doing?”  
  
I hand him the mug and stopper the tub. “You’re too tired to shower, then you’re taking a bath. Drink this. Slowly. If you fall asleep in the tub, you’re stuck here, because I can’t carry you to the bed.”  
  
“I’m fine, Cinna, I just—what are you doing?”  
  
I shuck off my sweatshirt, and his gaze falls to my chest, braless under a thin tank top. “I’m giving you a bath.” I pull the detachable showerhead down from its hook and stop the water.  
  
“Cinna, I can bathe myself, I’m a grown man.”  
  
“I know you are,” I say, running a hand over his damp hair, “but you’re exhausted and you’ve had a terrible day and I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you.” I kiss his shoulder, grab my rose-scented soap, and begin lathering the washcloth.  
  
“I feel ridiculous.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I barely fit in this tub to begin with and I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t even stand long enough to shower and…” His voice trails off as I rub the washcloth and my hands over his back and shoulders, kneading with my thumbs where I find the muscles are knotted. “Although this is, admittedly, rather nice.”  
  
“You spend all day taking care of other people, Ilya. You need to let other people take care of you sometimes.”  
  
“I ask you regularly to come take care of me, Cinna.”  
  
“You need to let other people take care of you sometimes _when you’re sober_ ,” I amend. I move the washcloth around to his chest, soaping there.  
  
“If you had asked me to tell you what I pictured when you said you wanted to ‘take care of me in the bath’, this is not what I would have pictured.”  
  
I can’t help but laugh at that. “There will be time enough for that later, I promise. Hand me the shampoo? I can’t reach it.” He does, and I squeeze some into my hand before letting him put it back in the corner. “Thank you. Not everything has to be sexy, Ilya. Just let me shampoo your hair and put you to bed, and we can be sexy when you’re rested. Drink your tea.” He obligingly takes a sip, and I can practically feel him rolling his eyes at me. “Don’t roll your eyes.”  
  
“How did you…”  
  
“I’ve known you a long time, Ilya. You really don’t think I don’t know what your face looks like when you’re annoyed at me?” I smear shampoo into his hair, rubbing my fingers over his scalp until a rich lather has built and he leans toward my touch. “You doing okay?”  
  
“Don’t ever stop. I’m sorry I was cross. This is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done for me. It feels so good.” He cracks an eye open and looks up at me. “Is this what it’s like to be a woman and go to a hair salon?”  
  
“Well, typically everyone is fully clothed, but the scalp massage, yes, that’s what it’s like to be a woman at a hair salon.”  
  
“Fuck me, I should’ve been a woman. I’d go to the hair salon every day.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure you can go to a hair salon even if you’re a man, Ilya. You just have to actually _go_ , rather than just have your sister cut your hair in her kitchen.”  
  
“Cinna, don’t talk about my sister while I’m naked, okay?”  
  
“Actually, given that your sister is my hair stylist, maybe we need to find you a different salon, if this is the reaction you’re going to have to getting a scalp massage.” I reach down and stroke my sudsed-up hand along his stiffening erection, and he shudders.  
  
“If I had the energy, I would make you pay for that. But I don’t, so I am begging you. Please. Don’t mention—oh gods,” he says, his hips bucking against my hand, causing water to slosh out of the tub. “Cinna.”  
  
He’s far too tired for me to be teasing him like this. “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.” I take my hand away.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, just don’t stop that.” He tries weakly to pull my hand back, but I resist, gently kissing his tattoo.  
  
“You’re all soapy. It’s time to rinse.”  
  
“Anything you want, I am at your mercy.” His arms have gone limp, spilling his drink into the water. Probably for the best; if he’d finished it, he’d be asleep before I can drain the tub. I set the mug on the floor, then twist to pull the stopper in the drain and turn on the detachable showerhead.  
  
“Tilt your head back,” I tell him, and he obliges. I mean to rinse his hair out, but I can’t stop myself from placing my lips against his throat and sucking gently.  
  
“Cinna…”  
  
“Shhh.” I kiss his jaw, then focus on the task of rinsing the shampoo from his hair. I take extra care to continue rubbing his scalp as I do so, eliciting happy moans. I apply conditioner to his hair, then rinse again, then pass the water over his shoulders and arms, making sure I’ve gotten all the suds off of him before turning it off and grabbing the towel sitting on the cupboard. I gently towel his arms and hair and torso before tugging gently at his hand. “Come on, Ilya, you’ve got to help me with this part.” He grudgingly gets to his feet and I towel him off the rest of the way before wrapping the towel around his waist and pointing to the toilet. “Sit.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m going to comb out your hair, or it’ll be a nightmare to detangle tomorrow.” His eyes close in either bliss or exhaustion as I work a comb through his curls. Probably both.  
  
“I had no idea having your hair messed with was so incredible,” he murmurs. “No wonder Pasha used to beg Mazelinka to brush and braid her hair when she was little.”  
  
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be talking about your sister while you’re naked,” I say.  
  
“I have a towel now.” I’m not entirely sure I agree with his logic, but I’m also not entirely sure he’s even aware of what he’s saying. I pull my towel off the hook on the wall and use it to dry his hair again. Julian presses his face against my breast. “You’re so soft.” He nips gently at me through my shirt, and lust shoots through me.  
  
“All right. Bedtime for you. I promise I’ll let you do whatever you want to me tomorrow, but for now, we are going to sleep.” I stand him up and push him gently toward the bed, hanging up the towels before joining him. It’s still unmade from my nap earlier, and he falls onto the mattress. I shed my damp clothes and curl up beside him, drawing the covers over us both, and comb my fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and he is asleep. Lying beside him in the dark, I listen to his breath and thinking of Asra’s warning.  
  
_Keep him safe._  
  
As if anyone could stop me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian is hungry, but not for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ultimately not doing anything at all, even a little bit, to further the plot, but sometimes I just need to write a pointless sex scene…and let’s be honest, sometimes y’all just need to READ a pointless sex scene. I’ll get back to plot next week. Probably. (If I don’t, Cinna’s not going to be able to walk for a few days, eh?) (And I promise Asra will get here soon. Cross my heart.)

Early the next morning, I’m in the kitchen making coffee and toast when Julian pads in naked and stands behind me, arms around my waist. I twist to look at him. “Well, good morning,” I say, running a hand over his still-bare hip. “Did you sleep okay?”

He pulls me to him, nuzzling my hair. “Like a corpse.”

“Morbid.”

“True, though.” He slides my robe open and off my shoulder and bites softly at the skin there. “Come back to bed.”

“You don’t want to eat?”

“Not breakfast,” he says, grinning, and I allow him to lead me back into the bedroom, where he unties my robe’s sash and pushes the fabric off my shoulders to pool at my feet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he tugs me toward him. “You’re so very, very lovely, Cinna.” I flush at his words as he grabs me around the waist and pulls me down, pinning me under him. “So lovely, and so soft, and if you taste as good as you smell…” He slides down my body, stopping to nip at my breast and make me gasp, before kissing his way lower, one hand remaining to gently circle my nipple with his thumb as he licks into me.

I close my eyes, concentrating on the sensations his mouth is creating between my legs. “Ilya…”

“Mmm?” he hums, and the vibrations make me lift my hips toward him.

“Oh gods, don’t stop…”

In response, he slips a finger inside me, curling it up to hit a spot so good I almost fly off the bed. “Fuck!”

“Good fuck, or bad fuck?” he asks, and I writhe below him.

“Good fuck. Keep going. Please, Ilya—” His hand moves again, and his mouth resumes its ministrations, and a moment later I shatter beneath him, clutching the sheet and panting, my vision hazy with pleasure.

“Now that,” he says, swiping a hand across his lips as he comes back up and covers my body with his, “is my kind of breakfast.”

I laugh weakly, pushing him onto his back. “Had your fill?”

“Never.” His eyes close as I kiss him deeply, tasting myself on his lips. My hand comes between us and I stroke him. He moans.

“Cinna…”

“Shhhh,” I whisper, “you had your turn. Now it’s mine.”

When I lick along his length, I can feel him trembling under my touch. “Don’t hold back,” I tell him gently. “Just relax, Ilya.” He takes a deep breath, which exits his lungs with a strangled groan as I take him into my mouth. His hips buck, and I press a hand against the trail of auburn hair below his navel to still them, my cheeks hollowing as I suck him.

My other hand comes around to cup his buttock, digging my nails in and raking them across his skin. It’s his turn to pant now, his breath catching and keening as he struggles to remain in control. His fingers fist in the sheets beside me, heels digging into the mattress as he fights the urge to thrust against my lips, and I hear him muttering something under his breath in Nevivon, my name interspersed between words I don’t understand but can follow the gist of anyway, under the circumstances.

Finally, he can’t keep himself in check any longer. His body moves against the bobbing of my head without any sense of rhythm, fingers tangled in my hair as he fucks my mouth, my nails leaving red welts where they dig into his hips. As he lets go, salty warmth spurting against the back of my throat, he gasps my name, then stills.

I crawl up his body to rest my head against his shoulder, his cock twitching against my thigh. Julian cups my cheek in his hand and presses his lips to my forehead, his kiss lingering before dropping to my lips. “Breakfast _and_ a blow job? You’re far too good to me, Cinna.”

I giggle. “Well, Ilya, I hate to break it to you, but…I’m not full yet.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I move to straddle him, grinding the slickness between my legs against him. “In fact, I feel quite empty.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he asks, and flips me over, pressing my knees up and apart to allow himself better access to fill me, over and over, until we are both fully spent and curl against one another and drift back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra is on his way; Julian helps in the shop.

Some time later, I become dimly aware of a buzzing near my head. I wave my hand sleepily about, shooing the fly, and open my eyes when the back of my wrist makes contact with something hard.  
  
“Ow,” Julian says, rubbing his forehead where I’d smacked him.  
  
“Sorry,” I tell him, sitting up and grabbing for my phone, the actual source of the buzzing. I read the text. “Asra will be here tonight.”  
  
“Oh.” Julian props himself on an elbow. “Ah, well. All right. What do we…do about that?”  
  
I can’t help but laugh. “Ilya, it’s just Asra. We don’t _do_ anything, we just go to dinner. He insists he has to see us both, but if you don’t want to then I can make an excuse for you—”  
  
“No,” he cuts me off. “No, I need to…I want to see him. I just, you know, ah, what if he gets…mad? About us? This?” He waves a hand between us, indicating the rumpled sheets that have slid to our waists, baring my breasts and showing off the trail of auburn hair making its way down his torso.  
  
“Honestly, Ilya, I think he’ll be happy for us. I really do.” He looks skeptical. “Oh, come on, when have you ever known Asra to be jealous, at all, ever, about anything?”  
  
“If I was going to pick a reason to be jealous for the first time, both of my exes spending all their spare time in bed together would be a pretty good one.”  
  
“Yes, love, but you’ve had much more practice at being jealous than he has,” I say, kissing him lightly before climbing out of bed and beginning to dress. “You already know all the best reasons to be jealous. Asra has absolutely no frame of reference for it. He’ll be surprised, but happy for us. And if he’s not, then I’ll deal with him.”  
  
“I can deal with him.” Julian looks hurt.  
  
“I know you can,” I say gently, “but I think we both know that it’ll be much less…dramatic…if I do.”  
  
He pouts, but nods. “You’re probably right.” He climbs out of bed and looks about. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”  
  
“Can you not wear the ones you came over in?”  
  
“They have surgery stink all over them.”  
  
I stare at the pile of scrubs on the floor outside the bathroom. “You didn’t change after you cut off a man’s arm?”  
  
“What? No! I mean, yes, I did, but I had surgery stink on me, and it transfers.”  
  
“What exactly does surgery stink smell like?” I wonder out loud. It’s not remotely relevant to anything, but I can’t help it. He’d smelled fine when he came in last night.  
  
“Misery and blood and five-hour energy shots.” He shakes out the pile and starts to stuff his legs into the pants. “I should go home and get some clean clothes. I’ll come back. You probably have to work anyway, don’t you?”  
  
I sigh. “Yeah, probably. I should at least open the shop for a few hours. It’s the beginning of tourist season, after all.”  
  
“It’s settled, than. I’ll go home and change, and then I’ll come back and help you in the shop until Asra gets here.” He glances at me from under his hair. “Should I…should I bring anything with me when I come? Another set of clothes for tomorrow, or anything?”  
  
I push his hair out of his face and press my lips to his. “You should, yes. And a toothbrush. An extra one, that can live here.”  
  
His face lights up in the grin of a child who’s just been told he can have not one, but _two_ cupcakes for dessert. “Really?”  
  
“Really. Maybe a couple extra changes of clothes, too. I’ll clear out a drawer for you.”  
  
“Cinna, I don’t deserve you.”  
  
“What, because I’m giving you a drawer?” I squeeze his butt. “I’d give you the sun if I could. You know that.”  
  
“I don’t want the sun. I just want you.” Before I can respond, his hands are in my hair, his lips on mine, and the kiss leaves me dizzy and breathless. “I only want you.”  
  
“You’ve got me,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m all yours.”  
  
***  
  
Business is better than it was the previous day, and Julian is, unsurprisingly, an excellent salesman. At one point, I exit the back room after doing a love reading for a young couple on their honeymoon to find him leaned casually against a shelf, extolling the virtues of tiger’s eye to a pair of attractive tourist women, who are staring at him as though he was Shakespeare writing them a sonnet off the cuff.  
  
“It’s excellent for that,” I hear him tell them. “That’s why they call it tiger’s eye. Tigers have extremely good eyesight, you know. The stone, obviously, can’t replace a good pair of glasses, or LASIK, but it will open your _mind’s_ eye, give you a clarity of _spiritual_ vision. And this,” he holds a large and, frankly, gaudy, necklace up to the neck of the shorter of the two women, “looks ravishing on you.” He trills the R of “ravishing” so he’s practically purring at her.  
  
“Oh, stop,” the woman says, giggling.  
  
“It brings out your eyes, the gold in your hair, the tan our incredible beaches have bestowed upon you,” he tells her earnestly. Turning to the other woman, he holds up a pair of earrings. “And for you, earrings, I think. With that slender neck of yours, these earrings will make you look like a goddess.” The earrings do, actually, look lovely on her; she’s a striking woman, tall and willowy, with the most beautiful whiskey-colored eyes that stand out against her dark skin, and close-cropped hair that highlights her long neck. She doesn’t need earrings to make her look like a goddess, but this pair truly is lovely on her.  
  
“He’s right, you know,” I say, and they all turn to look at me. “Those pieces really do suit you both.” I hand them each a stone information card from the display. “Tiger’s eye is a stone of protection—though it can help with mental clarity, which I think is probably what Julian meant when he mentioned your mind’s eye.” I glance at Julian, who nods emphatically.  
  
“Yes, yes, of course. You know me, Cinna, I get confused sometimes.” I smile at him, and he smiles back, and the customers practically melt. “It’s a good thing you came along to set me straight.”  
  
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the (unintentional, I’m sure) double meaning of his words, picturing him the other night, drunk and moaning about missing Asra before ending up with my thighs clamped around his head.  
  
“Julian may still be learning the meanings of stones,” I say to the women, “but he absolutely has an eye for beauty, and he’s spot-on about these pieces being stunning on you both.” The shorter woman rolls her eyes, and I narrow mine at the necklace Julian is holding. “Although…” I reach for another piece, a pendant on a gold chain, that’s a bit smaller. “I think this might suit you, too. But then, I tend to go for a more understated look with jewelry. Julian here—” I grin “—doesn’t know what ‘understated’ means, in any capacity.”  
  
Julian’s mouth opens and closes, and he looks sheepish. “It’s true. I’ve been told I have a flair for the dramatic.”  
  
The women laugh, and the blonde woman takes the pendant from me. “I do think this one is more up my alley. Sorry, Julian.”  
  
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says with a wave of his hand. “As Cinna said, tastes vary, and mine tend toward the, ah, over-the-top. Her taste is better. In most cases.” His voice drops to a stage whisper. “She does like pineapple on her pizza, though.”  
  
Earring Woman makes a face, and Necklace Woman nods approvingly. “I do as well. I’ll go with the pendant.”  
  
As they leave the store after making their purchases, I round on Julian. “You like pineapple on pizza too, you traitor!”  
  
His look of mock outrage is adorable. “I was trying to make a sale! She looked like she wasn’t going to buy anything, I figured if I made her choose between us, she’d buy one of the necklaces!”  
  
I step toward him, my arms snaking around his waist. “She was going to buy mine anyway, but thank you.”  
  
“I was trying to get her to buy the more expensive one.”  
  
“Ah, but the necklace she bought had a better quality stone and was twenty bucks more. Bigger isn’t always better, love,” I say. He quirks an eyebrow, and I nip at his earlobe. “Not that that’s a thing you have to worry about.”  
  
“Cinna, dear, do you _want_ me to take you right here on the counter in front of an open door?”  
  
I consider this. “Maybe.” He looks scandalized, and I laugh and release him to go lock the shop door. “I’m kidding. Mostly. Besides, it’s time to close up if we’re going to meet Asra at the Raven at seven.”  
  
He deflates. “Ah, yes.”  
  
The part of me that wants to protect Julian wants to convince him to stay home, so that I can find out from Asra what is going on that has him so concerned for Julian’s safety without Julian having to know he’s possibly in some sort of danger. But I tamp those thoughts down. If anyone deserves to know that Julian is possibly in danger, after all, it’s Julian.  
  
“I promise you he will not be angry with us. Now come on.” Tugging his hand, I head for the stairs to my apartment. “If we hurry, we’ve got time for a quickie before we leave.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I am so sorry for the delay in updating. I'd hoped this summer to publish a new chapter weekly, but that clearly didn't happen. I promise I'm not abandoning the story, life just got in the way of things. I'm hoping to resume a more regular update schedule again though. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!

“Stop fidgeting,” I tell Julian later that evening. We are at a corner booth at the Rowdy Raven and he hasn’t stopped twitching since we got here.  
  
“Sorry.” He lays his hands flat on the table in front of him, but his leg keeps bouncing under the table. 

I put my hand on his knee and it stills. “I will text Asra and tell him not to bother coming if you don’t get yourself under control, Ilya.”

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I’m fine.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, eyes closed. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine.”

Asra, of course, chooses that moment to walk through the door.

His face lights in a grin as he makes his way to our table. I squeeze Julian’s knee and slip out of the booth, allowing Asra to wrap me in a hug.

“Cinna!” Asra’s aura folds itself around me with his arms, enveloping me in warmth. I’ve missed him more than I realized.

He pulls back and holds me at arms length, eyes narrowing slightly and brows knitting together. The he glances over my shoulder at Julian, who has half-stood. “Asra. It’s, ah, good to see you.”

Asra glances from me, to Julian, and back again, and begins to laugh. “When did this happen?”

I look at Julian, who has gone beet red and is sputtering nonsense. “What? When did what happen? Ah, nothing happened. What happened?”

Looking back to Asra, I say, “A few days ago. Ignore him. He’s being…him.”

Asra laughs again. “I can see that.” Letting go of my arms, he crosses to Julian and pulls him into an embrace. “I’m delighted. This has been a very long time coming, and it’s about time you two figured out you’re meant for one another.”

Julian blinks. “You’re, ah, not…I mean, that is, this doesn’t…?”

“Why would I be upset?” Asra asks, slipping into the booth. I slide in after him, tugging Julian in next to me. “Ilya, I’ve been waiting ages for the two of you to figure out what I saw the moment I introduced you.”

“In our defense,” I say, twining my fingers through Julian’s, “we did both figure it out a long time ago. Just neither of us thought the other one felt the same way.”

Asra shakes his head, curls dancing. “I knew I should have meddled.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I say sternly. “We aren’t your toys, and we deserve to make our own decisions.”

“But think of all the orgasms you’ve missed out on.” His eyes are sparkling with mischief, and Julian chokes on his drink next to me.

“I’ve had plenty of orgasms, thanks,” I say drily, thumping Julian on the back.

“By yourself doesn’t count,” Asra says, winking. I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, bumping my shoulder against his and looping my arm through his to pull him closer. “Why do you keep disappearing for so long? It’s not nice.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding sincere. “I had to go. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you with me.” He leans forward to look at Julian. “I’d have brought you both if I could. But it wasn’t that kind of trip.”

“Plus, you know, we have jobs and stuff,” I remind him.

“Also that.” He takes a sip of the drink I had ordered for him before he arrived. It’s bright blue, and he almost pokes himself in the eye with the cocktail umbrella sticking out of it. I unlink our elbows and pull the umbrella out. “This is good.”

“You sound surprised. It’s the same thing you always order here.”

“I’d forgotten how good it is.” He peers past me. “Ilya, you’re quiet.”

“Mmm,” Julian mutters into his drink, a disgusting cocktail called Salty Bitters that he made up once when he was in a period of drunken self-loathing and charmed his way behind the bar. He only drinks it when he’s in one of his moods, and I’d really hoped he wouldn’t order it tonight but I’ve learned to let him have his coping mechanisms, however foul-tasting.

“Julian,” I say softly, angling myself toward him. I squeeze Asra’s arm gently to let him know I’m not excluding him to be mean. “Come on, love. Everything is fine, just like I told you it would be. Asra’s happy for us. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

“I know. I’m…ah, I’m sorry. You’re right. We haven’t seen Asra in months, and here I’m bringing down the mood.”

“You’re not—” Asra begins, but Julian cuts him off, standing up and picking up his drink.

“This is disgusting, why did I order this? I’ll be right back.” He disappears over to the bar, and I put my head in my hands.

“Are you all right, Cinna?” Asra asks.

“Oh, I’m fine. I just…I’d really hoped once he realized you weren’t going to be angry that we’re sleeping together, he’d calm down and act like a normal person for a bit.”

“I’m not sure Ilya knows how to act like a normal person,” Asra muses, and I giggle. “Is that all it is between you two, though? Sex? It doesn’t feel like that’s all it is.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been in love with him for as long as I’ve known him,” I say, knowing that he won’t be bothered by the admission even though I was dating him when I met Julian.

“I know,” he smiles. “You were always terrible at hiding your emotions.” I stick out my tongue at him. He chuckles at that, and sips his drink again. “And he’s loved you for just as long.”

“Apparently.”

“And you both thought I didn’t know?”

“He thought you didn’t know,” I correct. “I know you better than that.”

“He should know me better than to think I’d be upset. Even if it was just sex.”

“I think it’s the fact that it’s not just sex that had him concerned.” Asra raises an eyebrow, and I raise one right back. “Asra. We all know if there’s one thing you understand, it’s casual sex.”

Julian returns at that moment, clutching a tumbler of whiskey, glancing between us. “Ah, who’s having casual sex?”

“No one,” I tell him, and pat the seat next to me. “Sit down, and let’s let Asra tell us all about his trip.” He slides into the seat, and I lean into him, settling comfortably against his side, my head on his shoulder, as Asra launches into a colorful description of a particularly raucous night in Mepril.

***

A few hours later, Julian has finally relaxed, and the three of us are more than a little tipsy, sharing nachos and pizza. It’s just like old times, except that it isn’t, because the undercurrent of distress is gone from Julian’s aura, and the sexual tension that used to thrum between the three of us has ebbed away. For the first time, we are just us—not Asra and Cinna, or Asra and Julian, or Cinna and Julian; just Asra, and Cinna, and Julian, and Asra and Cinna and Julian. We are each ourselves, and together we are us, and I’m so overcome with love for these two amazing men that I feel tears pricking my eyelids.

Well. Overcome with love, or with whiskey. One or the other. Or both.

Our waitress stops by the table for last call, and I glance at my watch, hardly able to believe it’s so late. “Wow. We should probably go.” She drops the check on the table, and I reach for it, but Julian snatches it away from my fingers. “Hey.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Ilya, you don’t have to do that,” Asra says, but in classic Asra fashion, makes no move to pull out his own wallet. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure he even has a wallet; Asra has a way of getting other people to buy him drinks by just existing.

“I want to.”

“Julian, let me split it with you, at least,” I argue, fumbling for my bag, but he places a hand on mine, stilling it.

“Cinna, please. This…this evening has been wonderful. It’s been so wonderful to just sit here with you both and feel…normal. Please. Let me pay for dinner.” His face is earnest, and I realize that he’s felt it as much as I have, if not more—this shift in the dynamic, the power Asra once held over us both receding, allowing the three of us to just _be_ , for the first time in our entire friendship. I smile, and kiss him quickly.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Yes, Ilya, thank you. This really has been a delightful evening,” Asra says, but I feel something shift in his tone and my eyes narrow. “But before we leave, I need to tell you something.”

Julian’s eyebrows flick upward. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Something is going to happen.” We stare at him, and he spreads his hands, palms up. “I don’t know what, or when. But the cards are telling me that you need to be careful, that something isn’t right.”

“Is that all? Just some vague notion that I need to be careful?” Julian laughs. “Asra, you know I don’t put much store in—”

“I know, and I don’t care. Ilya, I’m telling you, something bad is going to happen, and you need to be—”

Before he can finish, someone strides up to our table. They don’t storm, they don’t stomp, but the anger radiating off of them is almost palpable. We all look up at the striking woman pointing a finger at Julian.

“You.”

“—careful,” Asra finishes. The woman ignores him, shoving her long purple hair out of her face. It’s wet; it must have begun to rain.

“Dr. Julian Devorak?” the woman asks.

“Ah, yes?” Julian stammers. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of—”

“You cut off my husband’s arm last night,” she says, and while her voice is outwardly calm and measured, the waves of hatred pouring off of her might as well be acid licking at our shoes. “And tonight, he is dead.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The high-powered wife of the high-powered man whose arm Julian removed yesterday has found him. What will this mean for our dear Doctor Devorak? Which is worse, dinner with his (and Cinna's) ex, Asra, or coming face-to-face with a very angry Nadia Satrinava? 
> 
> It's Julian, so both are worse. He's a bit dramatic, if you haven't noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES I am so sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I promise I have not abandoned this fic. I actually thought I HAD posted this chapter but apparently I never actually hit publish. 
> 
> As we enter November, my writing focus will likely be entirely on NaNoWriMo, so I can't promise I'll update this story this month, but who knows--I might need a break from my NaNo book and need to spend some quality time making Julian and Cinna bang ;)
> 
> Thanks to all of you for your patience and your lovely comments--and again, I'm sorry I'm a bad author who is terrible at updating! You're all wonderful for putting up with me!

Shock courses through me, and I can feel Julian tense next to me.

“I…ah, that is, I’m…I don’t…”

As Julian stammers a response, the woman glances at Asra, and her look of malice dissolves into giggles. “Oh, gods, I’m so sorry, Dr. Devorak, I know I shouldn’t have done that, but you should have seen your face!” Wiping her eyes, she slips into the booth on the other side of Asra, who hands her his drink. She drains it. “I really am sorry. It’s just been an incredibly long night. Day. Day and night.”

“Cinna, Ilya, allow me to introduce you to Nadia Satrinava,” Asra says, smiling at her. “Nadi’s an old friend.”

“So you’re—ah, that wasn’t your husband whose surgery I performed yesterday?” Julian asks, color returning to his face.

“Oh, no, that was absolutely my husband. He’s just not actually dead. Unfortunately.” Nadia makes a face into her now-empty glass. “Is it too late to order another? I very much need to be drunk right now.”

I slide my practically-untouched glass of wine her way. “Normally I wouldn’t share my drink with someone who just about gave my boyfriend a heart attack, but if you’re upset that the guy’s not dead, I think you maybe need this more than I do.”

“Thank you. Cinna, was it?” I nod. “Cinna, you’re a lifesaver. As, unfortunately, is your boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs., ah, Satrinava, was it? But why, exactly, are you unhappy that I didn’t kill your husband?” Julian’s leg has begun bouncing again, and I push his knee down with my palm.

She fixes her gaze on him. “Please, doctor, call me Nadia.”

He nods, holding out a hand, ever the gentleman. “Julian. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Nadia’s laugh seems utterly genuine. “You aren’t at all, you liar, not that I can blame you. I’ll admit that was a rather nasty trick I played on you. I truly do apologize for that, I had no idea you’d take it seriously.”

“It’s usually pretty serious when someone accuses a medical professional of murder,” I tell her, and look at Asra. “Did you know she was going to do that?”

He blinks. “No.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he stares back, unflinching. He’s telling the truth. I’m glad of it, because for him to have put her up to a prank like that would have been exceedingly cruel; Asra knows Julian well enough to know that sort of thing wouldn’t go over well.

“How, ah, how is your husband doing this evening?” Julian asks politely. I want to elbow him in the side and tell him he doesn’t have to be nice to this woman, but at the same time I can’t help but like her, even though I’m also annoyed at her for tricking him like she did. If it hadn’t been so upsetting, it _would_ have been pretty funny.

Nadia waves a dismissive hand. “He’s miserable, but that has nothing to do with his arm. He’s always miserable. Lucio is an exceedingly unhappy man, and quite vain. I do suspect it will take some time before he comes to grips with no longer being a perfect specimen of manhood and vigor.”

“Well, yes,” Julian says, “losing an arm is a huge change, it will certainly take some getting used to, both physically and emotionally—”

“You don’t know Lucio,” Nadia says, cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, I’m not here just because Asra asked me to join him for a drink to catch up. I’m also here, doctor, to warn you that you have some difficult days coming up. My husband is very rich and very powerful, and very, very angry with you for not saving his arm. He’s apt to make your life a living hell in any way he can.”

“But I couldn’t save his arm!” Julian protests. “It was completely mangled! There wasn’t even an arm _to_ save!”

“You don’t have to make your case to me,” she says. “I highly doubt that you cut off his arm just for the fun of it.”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“I’m just warning you, he’s going to be in a foul mood when you see him next, and he’s likely to take it all out on you. I’ll do my best to stop him from suing you for malpractice—not that I think he should win, but that’s never stopped him before, and he usually _does_ win, even when there’s no way he logically _can_ , and frankly, I don’t want to live with the gloating any more than you want to live with losing your medical license.”

Julian’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly as he tries to come up with a reply. He’s saved by the waitress stopping by the table.

“Closing time, folks,” she says. “Sorry to give you the boot, but I’m tired and not actually all that sorry.” She winks at us to let us know she’s teasing, and we gather our things and leave the Rowdy Raven. Whatever rain Nadia was caught in when she arrived has passed; the pavement is wet but the sky is clear.

“Where are you sleeping, Asra?” I ask, suddenly realizing I have no idea what his plans are now that he’s in town.

“At your apartment,” he replies, and it’s such an Asra answer I can’t help but laugh.

“All right, you mooch,” I tell him, “but you’re sleeping on the sofa. The bed’s taken.” I slip my arm around Julian’s waist, and he wraps his around my shoulder.

“Back to the hospital for me,” Nadia sighs. “It was lovely to meet you both, and Asra, thank you for the invitation, it was truly wonderful to see you again. It’s been far too long.”

“Come back to Cinna’s with us, Nadi,” he tells her. “We’ll be up for a while yet, and it’ll do you good to get away from the hospital. And from Lucio.”

Nadia glances at me, and I in turn glance at Julian. I’m intrigued by this apparent “old friend” of Asra’s, but her attitude toward Julian is hard to read, and I certainly don’t want him to be uncomfortable. He smiles and squeezes my shoulder. “I’d be delighted to spend more time in your company, Nadia. After all, the more opportunity I have to charm the wife of the man who wants to sue me, the more opportunity I have to convince her to talk him out of it.”

Nadia glances at her phone, and sighs. “No, I really must get back. I’m supposed to be at home picking up some things for Lucio. Perhaps another time.” She kisses Asra on both cheeks. “Come see me soon, all right?”

“Of course, Nadi.”

“Dr. Devorak, I’m sure I will see you at the hospital soon.”

“Ah, yes. That is…likely.”

“And Cinna, I do hope to see you again. Asra talks about you constantly, I’d like to get to know the woman who has so charmed him.” She kisses my cheeks as well, then disappears around the corner.

“She’s something else,” I say, tucking my arm into Asra’s elbow and steering the boys toward my car.

“That she is.”

When we reached the car, I pause. “Asra, I usually do my own sobering spells, but since you’re here…?” Smiling, he obliges, placing his hands on my shoulders and letting his magic wash over me. It’s a lovely feeling, like pulling on a sweatshirt that had just come out of the dryer on a chilly day, or having a kitten fall asleep purring in your lap. “I’ve missed that. Your magic feels better than mine does.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Julian whispers in my ear as he passes me to go around to the passenger side. “I’m rather partial to yours.”

“You’re biased,” I tell him, “but thank you.”

We’re all yawning when we finally stumble into my apartment. I go to make up the sofa for Asra, but he waves me off. “Go to bed, Cinna,” he tells me, taking the pile of blankets and pillows from my arms. “You know I don’t even need all this, I can sleep anywhere.”

“I know, but I have them, so you should use them.”

He glances past me into the bedroom, where Julian is pulling off his boots. “Should I cast a silencing charm on the door once you’re inside?” He grins, and I swat him with a pillow.

“No,” I say, following his gaze. Julian looks up, hair in his eyes, and smiles at us. A zing of desire shoots through me, but I shake it away. “No. We’re going to sleep. We’re all tired, and some of us have to work tomorrow.”

“If you say so,” he says, but he’s still grinning at me. I throw the pillow at him and he catches it, laughing, as I turn to go into the bedroom.

“Good night, Asra,” I say before closing the door. Turning my back on it, I see that Julian is already in bed, naked, propped on an elbow and grinning rakishly. I place my hand back on the door behind me, casting a silencing charm. I’m damned if I cast it and damned if I don’t—either Asra won’t hear anything, or he’ll hear everything, but either way, he knows exactly what’s about to go on behind the closed door, and there’s no use pretending otherwise.

Five minutes later, Julian’s head is between my thighs and I am very, very glad that I had cast that spell. Not only can Asra not hear me panting Julian’s name, but I can’t hear him laughing “I told you so” as he realizes he’d been absolutely bloody right to suggest it. That, at least, can wait until morning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian realizes exactly who he's up against; Cinna confronts Asra about his disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES, I am so, so sorry for the long delay in posting. It's been a hectic few months. I'm going to try really, really hard to be better about updating from now on!

The next morning, Asra and I are sipping coffee on the sofa when something slithers up my arm and onto my shoulders. “Faust! Where have you been?”  
  
“She’s been here all along,” Asra says. “She was in my bag at the bar last night.”  
  
I smack him on the shoulder. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Come here, sweet noodle,” I croon, picking Faust up and letting her slide along my shoulders. She flicks her tongue happily at my cheek and gives my arm an affectionate squeeze.  
  
“ _Friend hello!_ ”  
  
“It was mean of Asra to keep us apart. I could have been hanging out with you all night, and instead he kept you all to himself even though he’s _had_ you all to himself for months. Meanie.”  
  
“ _Happy,_ ” Faust tells me, the tip of her tail twitching merrily in the air. Suddenly, her head swivels toward the bedroom. “ _Want to squeeze!_ ”  
  
I turn to find Julian standing, shirtless and rumpled, in the doorway. His expression is bleary until he notices the snake twined around my neck and seems to know what she’s thinking despite not being able to hear her thoughts. “Oh, no. Uh-uh. No squeezing me, Faust.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s my job,” I laugh, walking over to wrap my arms around his waist. Faust slithers onto his shoulders and tightens around them. “Oops! Sorry, Ilya!”  
  
He rolls his eyes. “No, you’re not. Hi, Faust,” he tells the snake, stroking the top of her head. She shivers with joy and flicks her tongue at him before sliding to the floor and returning to Asra, where she sits on the edge of the sofa sipping coffee from his mug.  
  
“Ugh, Faust, don’t do that,” I tell her, going to the kitchen to fetch another mug for Julian. “Asra’s coffee is basically just sugar and milk. It’s barely got coffee in it. I can get you your own.”  
  
“ _Sweet,_ ” she trills. “ _Tasty!_ ”  
  
“Weirdo,” I tell her, handing Julian a mug of coffee and settling myself in between him and Asra on the sofa. “So. What are our plans today?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Asra replies, “what are our plans for today?”  
  
“I have to work,” Julian tells us, grimacing. He takes a large swallow of coffee, and his eyes bug out. “Hot!”  
  
I roll my own eyes and turn back to Asra. “I’m seeing Portia for a haircut later, which you are of course welcome to accompany me to if you like. Other than that, just working in the shop. Do you want to do some readings? Tourist season is kicking up, so I’ll be busy out front if you want to use the back room. I don’t have any appointments booked today but you know the tourists love when we have walk-in readings.”  
  
He nods. “That would be nice, yes. I could use the extra money, and when there’s no one to read for I’m happy to help you in the shop if you need me to. I’d like to see Portia, but if you think we can convince her to come out later then I can hold down the fort in the shop while you’re at your appointment, so you don’t have to close.”  
  
“Pasha will come out,” Julian says, his long fingers stroking my shoulder. “She’ll probably be pissed we didn’t invite her out last night.”  
  
“I thought about that,” I said.  
  
“As did I, but I needed to speak with you both alone.” Asra moves Faust, now milk-and-sugar-drunk, to his lap and takes a sip of the disgusting sweet sludge he pretends is still coffee.  
  
“Right,” I say. “The mysterious bad omen.”  
  
“You can mock me all you want,” he says mildly. “I know what the cards said, and I’m not ignoring them. Something bad is going to happen.”  
  
“Worse than being sued by Lucio Montag?” Julian asks.  
  
I round on him. “Wait, _that’s_ whose arm you amputated? _That’s_ who Nadia’s married to?”  
  
Julian looks confused. “…yes?”  
  
“The speakeasy guy.”  
  
“The what?”  
  
“The guy who does all those pop-up speakeasies all over the city, with different themes. Doesn’t he also make Count Lucio’s booze? Vodka? I think maybe it’s cheap vodka, like the kind you’d only use with a fruity mixer or at a college party.” I look to Asra for backup. “Right? Isn’t that that guy?”  
  
Asra nods. “That is Nadia’s husband, yes.”  
  
Julian’s eyes are wide, and he tugs at his hair. “I didn’t know. I had no idea.”  
  
I stroke his back. “It’ll be okay. What else were you supposed to do? It doesn’t sound like you could have saved his arm.”  
  
“No, I couldn’t have. No one could have. It was mangled beyond recognition, barely still attached, even. Completely destroyed.” He sighs. “But if he decides to sue me, he’ll win. The hospital might pay him off, to keep it quiet, but I’ll be out of a job. They won’t keep me on staff after a mess like that.” Flopping back against the sofa cushions, Julian rubs his hands over his face. “What else am I supposed to do? Family practice? Kids will freak out at the sight of me.” He waves a hand at his damaged eye, and I roll my own.  
  
“Julian, it’s just a scar, and not even a bad one. It’s not like you lost the eye.” The scar cuts through his eyebrow and down across his lid, and while it did require some repair work the night it happened, somehow he escaped without the eye itself being injured. “I keep telling you, it doesn’t bother anyone but you.”  
  
“It does,” he insists, stubborn as ever. “People stare. I make them uncomfortable.”  
  
Sensing that this could easily slide into one of Julian’s woe-is-me episodes, I look to Asra for help. He regards me blandly, then says to Julian, “I could glamour it for you.”  
  
 _Fat lot of help you are_ , I think. “He doesn’t need a glamour, Asra.”  
  
“What if he wants one? Shouldn’t he be allowed to decide for himself?”  
  
Sighing, I lean back. “Of course. Julian, I’m sorry. If you want to let Asra do a glamour for you, that’s your choice.”  
  
Julian glances at Asra from under his tousled mop of curls. “What would it entail?”  
  
“I’d make a charm you’d have to keep on you at all times that you want the glamour to be in effect.”  
  
“That sounds annoying. I’d probably forget.”  
  
“How is wearing a pendant any more work than wearing an eye patch?” Asra asks him, smirking.  
  
Julian blinks, then shakes his head. “It’s not, I guess.” He looks over to me. “You really don’t mind the scar?”  
  
“I really don’t, Ilya. It’s part of you. I think it’s beautiful.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Besides, the night you got it is one of my first memories of spending time with you, just the two of us. It’s special to me.”  
  
He blanches. “Gods, I can’t believe you didn’t kick me to the curb after that night. First I got drunk, then I got in a bar fight and bled all over your car, then you had to sit up with me all night while I drunkenly moaned about my face hurting.”  
  
“I loved every second of it,” I tell him honestly, curling into him. “Well, except for the part where you were sad and hurt. I hated that. But I loved being with you.”  
  
 _Squeeeeeze_ , Faust says, flicking her tongue against my wrist, and I laugh.  
  
“Who,” I ask her, “you or me?”  
  
 _You_ , she says, so I oblige and give Julian a hug. He looks at me questioningly, and I remember he can’t hear Faust.  
  
“Faust thought you needed a hug,” I tell him. He wraps an arm around me and looks down at the snake.  
  
“Thank you, Faust. I did, in fact, need a hug.”  
  
I push the hair away from his face and kiss his scarred eye. “I don’t think you need the glamour,” I tell him, “but if you want it, I’ve got everything Asra will need for it down in the shop.”  
  
He mulls it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “No. If you don’t think I need it, then I don’t think I need it. But…” A slow grin spreads across his face. “I’m keeping the eye patch. For when we go to the Raven. It’s part of my brand.”  
  
I giggle and squeeze his hand. “All right, fine. But now, it’s time for us to all get our acts together and get to work.” Asra and Julian both groan. “Well, _I’m_ going to get ready for work. You two can sit here in your underwear all day playing Go Fish for all I care, but some of us have to make a living.”  
  
“I might as well stay here,” Julian grumbles, downing the last of his coffee before standing up. “Since I’m about to be fired anyway.” He turns to Asra, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I don’t want a glamour, but can you make me a ‘don’t-get-sued-by-the-cheap-vodka-magnante’ charm?”  
  
“Sadly, Ilya, that’s not how it works,” Asra tells him, standing in one fluid motion and following him to the kitchen to rinse his mug. “But I’ll speak with the cards today and see if they can offer any guidance going forward.” He looks at me. “And we ought to find you some agate.”  
  
I nod. “And blue kyanite, I think?”  
  
Asra smiles. “Yes, I think so.”  
  
Julian glances between us. “I’ll just trust you two know what you’re talking about. I’m going to go get dressed.”  
  
While he does this, I dash down to the shop and pick out a few stones, bringing them up in a small velvet pouch, which I press into his hand when he comes to meet me at the door. “Fire agate, blue kyanite and obsidian,” I tell him. “Keep them with you. Take them out and hold them when you can. I’m going to talk to Asra today about what else we can do to keep you safe.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s much you can do to keep me safe from getting fired, Cinna.”  
  
I shake my head. “Not just that. The cards told Asra you were in danger. I assume this is what they were talking about, but I don’t know. We’ll see if we can get some more clarity. And in the meantime,” I close his fingers around the pouch, “you have these.”  
  
“Thank you, Cinna.” He bends down to kiss me, and I allow myself to be swept up in him—the way he smells, tastes, feels against me. “I’ll call you after work?”  
  
“You’d better.” He starts down the stairs, not letting go of my hand until the last possible second, and the minute we’re no longer in contact I can feel the loss of him, a physical emptiness that slices through my being.  
  
“It’s stronger than I realized.” I turn to see Asra leaning against the kitchen table. I had forgotten he was there, I was so wrapped up in Julian.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“Your connection with Ilya.” He pushes off the table and goes to wash the coffee mugs in the sink. “It was always strong, from the moment you met, but it seems it’s grown while I’ve been away.”  
  
I don’t look at him. “You’ve been away a long time.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
A beat. “Does it bother you?” He turns to look at me, his silvery hair catching the light and making him look positively angelic. “Me and Julian?”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
“I’d understand if it did.”  
  
“Cinna, I think you know me better than that.”  
  
I don’t know why I keep pushing, but I can’t stop myself. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since he got back, and all the feelings I’ve been keeping at bay for the better part of a year begin to well up. He’s been gone for so long, he left Julian shattered like some sort of demented Humpty-Dumpty, and me, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, trying so, so hard, for so, so long to put him back together, and failing every damn time. I’m angry and I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “Because it’s all your fault, anyway, you know that? You left. You disappeared, and we only had each other, and we _missed you_.” I can’t tell him about the breakdowns, the drinking, can’t tell him that the reason Julian’s face is scarred is because he got into a fight because some asshole at the bar had dared to refer to Asra as “that fairy magician twink” and Julian had shattered a bottle over the guy’s head. I can’t tell him that the reason I’m so angry isn’t because he broke my heart, but because he broke Julian’s, and that broke mine all over again.  
  
That’s not my pain to share. So instead, I stand there, my hands shaking, blinking back tears I hadn’t expected to surface, watching Asra calmly wash dishes, and I tell him that I missed him.  
  
Faust glides up my body to my shoulders, where she nuzzles into my hair and neck, trying to soothe me. _Sad? Angry? Hurt?  
  
_ “Yeah,” I tell her. “Yeah, all of those.”  
  
Asra finally dries his hands and walks over to me. Putting his damp fingers on my shoulders, he says, “I missed you too, Cinna. I missed you both terribly. You’re the most important people in my life, and it killed me to be away from you for so long.”  
  
“Then why did you stay gone?” The tears have spilled over, making hot tracks down my cheeks. I don’t brush them away. Let him see them, let him see how much he hurt me. Hurt _us_. “Why didn’t you come back, if you missed us so badly?”  
  
“Because I couldn’t,” he says simply.  
  
“That’s a stupid answer.”  
  
“It is,” he agrees, “but it’s the only answer I have. I had to stay away so you two could find one another.”  
  
I pull away from him, and Faust tightens her grip on me to keep her balance. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.” He looks mystified. “Don’t you tell me that you _had_ to go away so that Julian and I could be together. That’s bullshit. What, the cards told you to go away and not to come back for almost a _year_ , and then suddenly, the day after Julian and I finally get together, the cards tell you to—” I stop, and cover my face with my hands as all my anger floods away. “Sweet Circe, that’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? The cards told you to go away, so you did. They told you to stay away, so you did. They told you to come back, so you did. The timing isn’t a coincidence.”  
  
“I didn’t know why they wanted me gone,” Asra tells me, taking my hands in his. “But they did, and I had to listen. I also didn’t know why they told me it was okay to come back, though I had a hope as to why. I’m delighted to see that my hope came true.”  
  
“I hate everything,” I tell him, and, laughing, he pulls me into a hug.  
  
“I know,” he says, pressing his lips against the side of my head. “I know you do. But the Arcana know what they’re talking about, and when they tell me to do something, there’s a reason, even if I don’t know what that reason is.”  
  
“I can’t believe if I’d just kissed Julian that night in the hospital like I wanted to, you would have been back before Halloween.”  
  
“That’s not necessarily true, and you know it,” he says. “You could have ruined it all if you’d kissed him before he was ready.”  
  
“Which still probably would have brought you back to pick up the pieces.” I give him one last squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, then pull away, wiping my face. “I need to go clean up and get downstairs. Tourists won’t wait just because we’re having a moment.”  
  
“A much-needed moment,” he says, lifting Faust from my shoulders. She protests, and I reach for her.  
  
“Uh-uh,” I tell him. “You’ve monopolized her for a year. It’s my turn. Come on, Faust. Let’s go have girl time. You can help me pick out my clothes while Asra goes downstairs and gets his stuff set up for today.”  
  
 _Bye!_ Faust singsongs to Asra as I carry her into the bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, I hear Asra laughing softly as he shuffles his cards.  
  
I glare at my own cards, sitting on the dresser in their silk bag. _Assholes_ , I think, and I swear I can hear the Arcana laughing at me from inside the fabric.


End file.
